The Rapture
by MockingbirdWings
Summary: AU - Jon Arryn's death is not a part of Baelish's plan. Instead he moves quietly, in the shadows, hitting straight to the core. While Sansa is enjoying her innocence and happiness, a simple unexpected meeting will change her life forever. After all, life is not a song.
1. Chapter 1

It was a loud thud that made Sansa wake up that morning. She tossed up in her bed, with her hand against her chest, breathing heavily.  
>"It was only a thunder." Her young sister Arya muttered tiredly from her bed across the room.<br>That made her calm down. She kept having nightmares about foreign guards attacking and taking over Winterfell. She laid back down and stared at the wooden ceiling for a long time, listening to the raindrops hitting the window roughly. Living in the North since she was born, she was used to such a bad weather. In fact, she had grown to love it somehow, even if she often dreamt of going south, to the capital, to all the handsome knights, the royal ladies, the King and the Queen.  
>Her awakening had been abrupt and it was impossible to fall asleep again; though she couldn't say the same for her sister. Finally she decided to rise and get dressed in a light blue gown before heading to the hall downstairs to break her fast. Lady Catelyn, her mother, was there already, feeding herself pomegranate seeds.<br>"Good morrow, mother." Sansa greeted her and took a seat at the table, filling her plate with lemon cakes immediately. They had always been her favourite and her mother never missed a chance to have some made for her.  
>"Hello, Sansa." Catelyn replied calmly, smiling kindly at her daughter. Out of all her children, Sansa and Robb were the ones that looked like her the most; they had the Tully look, the auburn hair and the oceanic blue eyes. "Did the storm wake you, child?"<br>Sansa simply nodded, as her mouth was already filled with a large bite of her first lemon cake. Soon the rest of her siblings joined them; Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon. Her half brother, Jon Snow, had gone to the Wall only a few months ago, to serve the Night's Watch. He was a bastard, a child her father had with some unknown woman, disgracing her mother. But Jon was a good young man and she loved him all the same, just like all her siblings, no matter how different they were from one another. Her father, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was currently visiting Jon at the Wall.  
>"Mother, can I go to the godswood to pray when the rain stops?" Sansa asked before wiping her mouth with a napkin. She had been taught to be well mannered since she was three years old.<br>"Praying is stupid." Arya mumbled while poking her lemon cake.  
>"Arya!" Sansa gasped.<br>"What? It is." Her little sister snapped.  
>"Enough, both of you. We can go to the godswood later, Sansa." Catelyn glared at both of her daughters. Born with the same blood but growing up so differently.<br>"No, I want to go alone. I am old enough." Sansa complained.  
>"It's dangerous in the woods, sister." Robb entered the conversation while chewing a piece of bread.<br>"Not the godswood, people respect that." She replied to him right away and gave her mother a pleading look. Lady Catelyn's only weakness was her children; she was hoping that would be enough for her mother to do her the favour.  
>Catelyn sighed. "All right. Promise me to be careful and not take long or I will send guards to bring you back."<br>Sansa giggled and kissed her mother's cheek quickly prior to standing up from the table. "Thank you, mother." She gave Arya a victorious glance before she straddled off, heading back to her room. She sat by the window with her comb and brushed her hair. Slowly and carefully, just like her mother had shown her. _One day I will be living in a large castle and I will have a handmaiden to brush my hair for me_, she thought proudly. How she dreamt of that day. She would wed a handsome prince and they would make beautiful babies together. They would be happy and they would rule their castle, just like in the stories.  
>The rain had stopped by the time she finished brushing her long, auburn hair. There would be mud outside so for that she wore her boots and threw a dark purple cloak over her shoulders. When she returned downstairs, the hall was empty. Outside she could spot Robb trying to teach Bran how to shoot arrows with a bow; Rickon and Theon Greyjoy were accompanying them. Arya was probably messing around somewhere close to them but Gods only knew where her younger sister ever was. Sansa wrapped her cloak more tightly around her figure and took off; now that the rain had stopped, the citizens of Winterfell were outside again flowing in the streets.<br>Soon she had left the castle behind her and she headed towards the godswood. Her steps were quiet as she was walking upon the wet fallen leaves of the weirwood trees…and finally, she arrived at her destination. Next to a very small, shallow lake stood the Heart Tree, with its crimson red leaves and its pure white trunk. Sansa sat on a rock next to it and stared at the carved face on the tree with amazement. The Old Gods of the Forest. She closed her eyes and listened to the light breeze blowing, tossing her auburn locks behind her shoulders. She used to pray in her mother's company, even though she had different Gods. After all, the wishes stay the same, no matter what Gods they are referring to. Health and happiness for all her family members, peace for the Seven Kingdoms, mercy from the Gods. That's what she had been taught to pray for. That's what she would have prayed for that day as well, if the sound of a branch cracking hadn't broken the utter silence. She jumped and gasped in shock, quickly looking over her shoulder.  
>"Who's there?" she said in a trembling voice.<br>Silence fell again. _Maybe it was an animal_, she thought, _or Arya and Bran who are trying to scare me_. But they never visited the godswood, not even to play pranks on her.  
>"Arya? This is not funny!" she yelled, hoping for an answer; but it was only a false hope.<br>The wind blew, making a few red leaves float in the air and settle down on her lap. She was about to shake them off of her when she heard an unfamiliar voice coming from behind her.  
>"They look congenial with your hair."<br>Sansa stood up quickly and turned around, to face the stranger that was standing a few metres away from her. She had never seen him before. He had short, black hair, with a few silver streaks. He had grey-green eyes, enigmatic and intense as they were staring at her, and a short beard. He was wearing a dark grey tunic and a black cloak, matching his hair and his sharp, mysterious features. His acute gaze was making her uncomfortable.  
>"Who are you?" She desperately hoped her fear wasn't showing.<br>Her eyes met his, noticing how a hint of a smirk crept on his features. _He can see right through my affright_, she thought and shivered.  
>"Forgive me, my lady. I didn't mean to frighten you." He took a step towards her but she backed away. He seemed amused by her cautious reaction. "My name is Petyr Baelish. You must be Lady Sansa, one of Cat's daughters." He said finally, revealing his identity.<br>Sansa nodded hesitantly. His knowledge frightened her even more. But somehow his name seemed familiar as well… She kept quiet, trying to avoid looking at him in the eyes again. When he took another step closer to her, she remained still. Her stomach was aflutter.  
>"What are you doing here…" his dressing and stance suggested he was a lord; at least not a knight for sure. "…my lord?" she cleared her throat and frowned, realising how stupid her question was. They were in the godswood, he could have come for only one thing; praying.<br>At first he didn't answer. He only approached her even more but she was unable to take any more steps back; the little lake was right behind her. _He won't harm me, we are in the godswood…the Gods will have mercy. They will protect me_; she tried to make herself believe that but somehow it wasn't easy.  
>"I came to see you."<br>His answer took her aback. She didn't remember meeting him before, how could he possibly want to visit the godswood just to see her then? She felt the back of his hand brushing against her cheek ever so smoothly. She shuddered. She wanted to scream and run away but her terror kept her still.  
>"You look just like her." She heard him whispering. <em>Does he mean my mother?<em> It was known that she was like a young imagine of Catelyn. But how could he know…  
>Suddenly, he turned away from her, managing a decent distance between them again. Only then she dared to lift her gaze and give him a confused, questioning look.<br>"Your mother and I, we were childhood friends." He stated, tracing his fingertips along the white trunk of a weirwood tree. He wasn't looking at her anymore. _Is this a good chance to run? _"I dare say I had dreamt we would be more than that."  
>That was when Sansa remembered. One morning, while breaking her fast, her mother had narrated her a short story from her childhood back in Riverrun, where her and her sister, Lysa, had fed cakes of mud to their friend Littlefinger. Sansa was curious about that nickname and so her mother had explained to her that his real name was Petyr Baelish but her brother, Edmure, had given him that nickname because he was small and he came from the Fingers. Feeling proud of her memory, Sansa almost let herself smile…but then she remembered she wasn't alone.<br>"So you have come to Winterfell to visit my mother, my lord?" She felt more at ease now. He was Catelyn's friend. Or used to be… _I trust my mother's judgement, don't I? _She pressed her lips together, uncertain of whether she should fear him or not. Meeting his piercing grey-green gaze made her shiver. Instead of answering her question, he flashed her an enigmatic smile.  
>"Do you like praying, Lady Sansa? Do the Gods help you?" he asked her as he knelt beside the lake and grazed its surface with his hand.<br>"I guess…" she blushed, realising how unsure she had sounded. She watched the small waves soothing across the water. Once they disappeared, she felt like his reflection in the water was watching her. "The Gods protect and grant mercy to us all." She continued, repeating the words she had been taught to say since she was a child.  
>He chuckled and stood up. "Of course they do."<br>_Is he being sarcastic?_ She pondered. She crossed her arms, feeling uneasy due to how close to her he was again.  
>"Do you ever pray to the Gods, my lord?" She met his eyes reluctantly. He was already staring at her, stroking his short beard in thought.<br>_Why is he looking at me like that? _She didn't dare to think that what she saw in his eyes was enchantment or even amazement.  
>"The Gods and I don't get along so well, I have found." He admitted with a light shrug.<br>That surprised her. Never before had she met someone who didn't believe in the Gods…or at least someone who didn't pray. She had always thought of it necessary; how could the Gods have mercy on someone who didn't ask for it? If they provided someone with mercy just like that, then what was the point in praying? In the end, did it change anything?  
>She rubbed her arms awkwardly. The breeze had become chillier and tiny raindrops had started falling. It would be better if she returned, or else she would have to deal with her mother's concern and rage.<br>"The rain is starting again." _That is only an excuse…right? _"I'd better return to the castle." She attempted to walk past him but he grasped her arm, making her gasp. His grip was gentle but it took her aback nevertheless.  
>"It was a pleasure meeting you." <em>Was it? <em>She felt his palm sliding down her arm slowly till it reached her hand. He took it and brought it to his lips, pressing them against it. They felt soft…but cold.  
>She swallowed thickly; his kiss made her skin tingle.<br>"Have a good day, my lord." She mumbled and walked away after he let go of her hand.  
>She had put a few metres behind her when she heard him speaking again.<br>"Lady Sansa?"  
>She turned around, dreading what he might want this time…he stood in the same position she had left him, with a sly smirk taking over his mysterious features.<br>"It would be wise not to tell anyone about our meeting." He suggested with an arch of his eyebrows.  
><em>Why would he want that? He was my mother's friend.<em> Then again she didn't know how that friendship had ended. After all, did she really want to know? She simply nodded and straddled off, treading into the godswood with haste. She didn't look back.  
>By the time she reached the castle of Winterfell the rain had become heavier. Her wet scarlet hair and her dress were sticking to her body. She avoided talking to any of her siblings when she arrived home. She went to her room straight away and changed into a dry white gown. With a cloth she dried her hair as well and finally collapsed on her bed.<br>Behind her closed eyelids she could see a man in a black cloak…


	2. Chapter 2

The days passed by but the dark stranger wasn't forgotten; after all, how can we escape those who have the power to sneak into our minds? Sansa would lay in bed at night, remembering how his cold skin felt against her cheek. He had frightened her. He had come to her in peace and had started a war with her sanity. One night she woke up screaming, after a nightmare where he was drowning her in the small lake in the godswood. Arya threw a pillow at her, telling her to shut up. It was her mother though, who came in the room and comforted her in her warm embrace.  
>"Tell me stories from your childhood, mother." Sansa had begged her as they were sitting together in the dark.<br>"It's too late for that, Sansa. Go back to sleep." Her mother's calm tone always managed to soothe all her troubles. She often wondered how Lady Catelyn always managed to seem so tranquil.  
>"Please. They help me sleep." Indeed they did. But not this time; she was only searching for an excuse to hear more of her mother's childhood; to hear her speaking more of the obscure man she had met in the woods.<br>"Very well."  
>Catelyn narrated to her about one time when she had gone with Lysa and Petyr to the river. They were practicing kissing with him when it started raining and their gowns ended up all muddy. Lord Hoster Tully, her father, only scolded Petyr, accusing him of inducing them to go to the river. Petyr had accepted the blame, since it kept her and her sister out of trouble. <em>He was a sly and clever boy<em>, Catelyn said, _but also brave and caring_. Usually after a story Sansa had dozed off; not this time though.  
>"Mother? What happened to Petyr? Where is he now?" The question she wanted to ask from the beginning; but she had to ease into the matter or her mother would suspect something…but Catelyn suddenly appeared troubled and melancholic<em>. Did I ask for too much?<br>_"My friendship with Petyr had an unfortunate ending, child. I will tell you another time." She tried to move but Sansa shook her head. _No, don't leave now. Not when I am about to learn all I need to know.  
><em>"Please tell me mother, I'm not tired." She begged but her words were no use.  
>"But I am, Sansa. Try getting some rest." Her mother kissed her forehead and left the room, leaving her upset and disappointed. <em>What could she mean by unfortunate ending? <em>Sansa sighed and fluttered her eyes shut, only to see him again behind her closed eyelids. _What's wrong with me?  
><em>She didn't visit the godswood again for the whole week. She had other, greater worries. Robb's name's day had arrived and her father hadn't returned from the Wall, though he had promised he would be there for the feast. Maester Luwin had sent a raven to the Wall but the only response he got was that Lord Stark had left two nights ago.  
>Nevertheless, Lady Catelyn decided to go through with the feast, as it was an important day for her eldest son. All citizens of Winterfell gathered at the largest hall of the castle. The Stark family was sat at the biggest, main table whereas the rest were spread across the room, at smaller tables.<br>"This is not right. Father should be here." Arya complained and stabbed the piece of meat on her plate with her fork.

For once, Sansa couldn't disagree with her. She missed their father. He wasn't one to particularly enjoy feasts but his plain presence would have given the room a different essence. A sense of safety and utter serenity. She sighed and let her gaze to roam around the hall. A couple of girls who practiced sewing with her were seated across the room, whispering in each other's ear. She envied them. She only had Arya on her right and Robb on her left but he was always standing up and wandering among the tables, making toasts with each family. Next to Robb sat Lady Catelyn, preoccupied with admiration for her eldest son and making sure every table was served well and correctly.  
>Sansa took a small sip of her cup of wine. No wonder everyone in the hall would end up drunk by the end of the night; but not her, her mother never allowed her to drink more than one cup. <em>I should go talk to the girls<em>, she thought and casted her oceanic pools towards them again. They didn't even seem to notice she was missing from their usual company. She didn't have time to worry about that as she caught glimpse of someone sitting at the corner of the room. Alone, dressed in black…a black cloak, black hair…no, it couldn't be. It was him. _And he is looking at me?_ No. Not her. Sansa felt her hands shaking as she turned her head and realized it was her mother he was looking at_. If he wanted to keep his presence a secret, why would he come here? Why would he do something so reckless? Why would he force me to see him again…  
><em>She shuddered and didn't even notice how hard she was squeezing her fork. Her knuckles turned white.  
>"What in the Seven Hells has gotten into you?" She heard her sister saying, in her usual exasperated tone; but her voice sounded like it was coming from far far away.<br>She released the folk and tried to focus on her food. _Maybe he is not truly there, maybe my dreams got to me too much._ She didn't manage to control herself for long. She raised her gaze from her plate and looked at him. He hadn't moved from his position. The only difference was that this time, he was staring right at her. The instant eye-contact made her blood rush to her cheeks, colouring them with a scarlet shade. He smirked at her, in such a sly manner that it made her swallow thickly. He pressed a forefinger to his lips, as if to silence her. He was asking her to keep quiet about his presence…_why should I keep doing this, just because he is asking me to? _She managed to compose herself and look away from him, or else her hands would never stop shaking. She turned to her mother who was currently glaring at Robb; he and Theon Greyjoy had already drunk too much for her standards.  
>"Mother, who is that at the corner, next to the door?" she asked twice. The first time her voice sounded too weak and soft for her mother to hear.<br>"Who, child?"  
>"Right there…"<br>But he wasn't there anymore for her or anybody else to see. Sansa froze and quickly searched the crowd with her eyes. He was nowhere to be found.  
>"Never mind." She bit her bottom lip in shame for disturbing her mother for unnecessary reasons.<br>"What did they put in your wine?" Arya laughed at her but she couldn't find the strength to answer to her.  
>Her head had begun spinning but it wasn't the wine; it couldn't be. She hadn't even finished her cup. Perhaps he truly hadn't been there after all. <em>But it felt so real…<br>_She rested her hands neatly on her lap and struggled to push him away from her thoughts. The girls were forgotten and so were Arya's mocking sayings. The evening went on and eventually people began leaving but she didn't feel any less ill at ease.  
>"Mother, may I be excused?" she finally found the courage to ask. It was her duty to stay, as a family member of the one celebrating; but she couldn't. All the time she could feel those grey eyes watching her, coveting her…and yet he was nowhere to be seen.<br>"Are you feeling unwell, Sansa?" her mother asked her placidly.  
>She nodded in response and, thankfully, got the permission to be excused. She stood up carefully and straddled among the crowd till she could finally leave the hall. With her hands folded, she walked through the long corridor. She could feel something moving in the shadows, as the flames of the torches on the walls danced in an obscure, mysterious rhythm. She shivered and quickened her steps. <em>Arya was right. Probably the wine was too strong.<br>_"Leaving so soon, my lady?"  
>Her feet resisted taking her any further. She remained as still as a mountain, staring straight ahead at the darkly dressed man who stood a few metres away from her, as if born by the shadows.<br>"What…what are you doing here?" she only managed to mumble. A foolish question. One he didn't bother answering. He only took a couple of steps towards her but she backed away. _Are we going to play this game again?  
><em>"I will call the guards." His chuckle made obvious how she failed to sound threatening.  
>"You could. But you won't, will you?" He sounded so certain. <em>But how could he know? I should just…<br>_Her mind was working feverishly, filled with questions about his presence, about his purpose. Her heartbeat was so fast and loud in her ears that she could barely hear his footsteps anymore as he walked even more towards her. The more steps she took backwards the closer he came. Her back ended up hitting the cold, stony wall. Her breath hitched; she had to rub her hands together to stop them from trembling. Fear had consumed and paralyzed her. He stopped right in front of her and placed a hand against the wall, right next to her head. He was "wearing" a malevolent smirk, one that didn't reach his empty, emerald eyes. _Why does he seem so amused?_  
>"I trust you haven't told anyone about our little meetings. Though, you did try tonight." So he had truly been there. He knew she would tell her mother so he disappeared, slyly and quickly.<br>She avoided looking at him in the eyes; instead she stared at his cloak blankly, noticing a silver pin fastened on his tunic, one she hadn't seen the other time. From the lines carved on it she could tell it was a mockingbird. Confused about what exactly it meant, she decided to better close her eyes tightly.  
>"I haven't told anyone…please…I won't, I promise." Her voice was quivering uncontrollably. So did her body when she felt his warm breath against her cheek. <em>What is he doing? <em>She had heard stories about girls who had lost their maidenheads by force and then nobody wanted to wed them. _This can't be my fate. I will call the guards._  
>But she didn't get a chance to.<br>"You look rather beautiful tonight, Sansa." The use of her name surprised her. They barely knew each other but he was acting as if they were familiar for years…and intimate?  
>"I…" Nothing else came out of her mouth. No words could be found. She wanted to push him away and leave but her terror had crippled her.<br>She felt something soft brushing along her jaw-line. _Is it his hand? _She opened her eyes, only to realise he had leaned so close that it was his lips that she was feeling. A smooth, tantalizing sensation that sent chills down her spine.  
>"Please…" she breathed out. <em>Please don't stop. <em>Her own thoughts made her upset. She tried to squirm but his free hand grasped her hip and held her pinned to the wall. He was kissing her neck, slowly but ruthlessly, and he began leaning against her. She lifted a hand and placed it on his shoulder, feebly trying to push him away. His kisses were making her skin tingle. _Do I really want this to end? _Yes. He was going to take her by force, every second that passed by made her even more certain of that. She was about to yell for the guards, as she should have done from the first moment she saw him, when his mouth suddenly covered hers, banning her from speaking. Swallowed down by his lips, her scream sounded more like a moan of pleasure instead. He had a sweet taste, of wine and mint. He feasted on her lips hungrily, as if some kind of unknown fierce passion had taken over him. But she didn't respond; she couldn't respond. She gripped his cloak, trying to push him away. He seemed to understand her struggle so he pulled away, leaving them both breathless. She opened her eyes but what she saw took her aback. He was staring at her but his expression was nothing she expected. He seemed amazed, dazed perhaps…he licked his lips and stepped away from her. He didn't say another word. He only felt his mouth with his fingertips and walked away hastily, soon leaving her alone in the dark corridor.  
>Her chest was heaving fast, though she was trying to catch her breath. Involuntarily, she touched her lips, just like he had done before he left. They were wet, warm and swollen by his hungry kissing. The shadows began surrounding her, drowning her, as black as his hair and cloak, as dark as his grey-green eyes that had stared right through her mind and left poison behind.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Every night he would return. His hands would be all over her, his lips…_This needs to stop…THIS NEEDS TO STOP! _she thought every time she tossed up from her bed after such a dream. Her thoughts were screaming inside her head, deafening her.  
>"Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Arya asked her one night and sat on her bed with her. In the dark it was hard to tell whether her sister looked concerned or annoyed; and yet something in her voice was different. She wasn't teasing nor mocking her. She was trying to comfort her.<br>"I'm having these dreams…" Sansa began but her voice broke. She couldn't tell her about the dark stranger. If she did, their whole family would find out eventually.  
>"What dreams?" Arya insisted and leaned her shoulder against her sister's.<br>"About…about father." She lied. Four more days had passed since the feast and still no sign of their father. Castle Black had sent some of their men after him, in case they found any tracks; but no news had reached Winterfell, if there were any at all.  
>Arya fell in silence. They were all scared about Lord Eddard's fate. If there was something bad to happen to him, it would be Robb who would take his place as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. Lady Catelyn prayed for her husband every day and night; Sansa felt ashamed for not doing the same but her fear had kept her away from the godswood. <em>It would be normal if I had dreams about father…but I don't. What's wrong with me?<br>_She felt Arya wrapping her arms around her and sighing. She couldn't remember the last time they had had a moment like this…_and still, I lied to her.  
><em>"Our father will return. You'll see." Arya sounded so certain and yet her words were only based on hope. Isn't that what we all have in the end; hope?  
>Eventually her sister returned to her bed and they both went back to sleep<em>. I will visit the godswood on the morrow and pray for my father's return, <em>Sansa promised to herself and gripped her pillow before drifting off to sleep.  
>She got up when the first rays of sunlight invaded the room. She changed into a casual light purple gown and sat by the window to brush her long auburn hair. She watched the streets of Winterfell beginning to come back to life as people were just waking up and returning to their daily work. Then, she caught glimpse of her mother and her brother Robb at the gates, discussing with a couple of horse riders who soon after exited the walls of Winterfell and vanished into the fog. When she went downstairs to break her fast, Lady Catelyn and Robb had returned.<br>"Who were those riders?" she asked hesitantly, after a long moment of silence between all of them. Was it because of grief? Because of concern and fear? She couldn't tell.  
>It was her brother who answered to her.<br>"We sent six of our best riders to go North towards the Wall and search for father." Robb's composure during hard times was a gift he had gotten from their mother.  
>Sansa nodded and focused back on her lemon cake, making a successful attempt to suppress a sigh that was threatening to escape. Deep down, a voice was telling her that if her father was to be found, it would have happened already; but she refused to believe that. She could not believe that. Her father had survived the rebellion against the Mad King. Him and Robert Baratheon, who was now King of the Seven Kingdoms, had ended Aerys Targaryen's dynasty.<br>She found herself having lost her appetite. She folded her hands politely on her lap and looked at her mother; Lady Catelyn was silent that morning. But Sansa could see that behind her mask of tranquility hid one of the greatest fears; the fear of loss.  
>"May I be excused? I wish to visit the godswood, to pray for father." She announced and stood up from the table when Catelyn gave her a nod of agreement.<br>Unlike the last time she had visited the godswood, the weather that day was sunny. The beams of bright sunlight fell upon the red leaves of weirwood trees, colouring them with a darker scarlet shade. Her dainty fingers would trail along the trunks of the trees as she walked amongst them. It was a beautiful day; if only it could also be embraced with good news of her father's fate.  
>She arrived at the praying spot, next to the small lake whose surface was reflecting the trees encircling it; but that didn't catch her attention. She had frozen in her tracks, staring at the man who sat on a rock next to the Heart Tree. He was staring at her as well, his eyes as green as their surroundings.<br>"I thought you would never come." She heard him muttering.  
>Petyr Baelish patted the rock he was sitting on. His sharp features were graced with an oracular smirk. "Join me." He added.<br>_Does he actually think I will join him? _Sansa didn't move. She crossed her arms over her chest, in a defensive position. _Should I run away?  
><em>"Are you following me?" she asked, surprised at how dynamic her voice sounded in comparison to all the other times she had come across to him.  
>He chuckled in amusement, revealing his white perfectly shaped-teeth. She avoided looking at his lips; the lips she kept dreaming of; the lips that had touched hers and had made it impossible to forget how they tasted.<br>"What do you want?" she asked again, since he didn't seem to plan on answering her previous question. His intense gaze was beginning to make her feel uneasy.  
>"Come here." He patted the space on the rock next to him again. This time he sounded more demanding and serious, though his smirk didn't fade away.<br>Reluctance took over her. _What could he do to me? Kiss me. Touch me. No, he will respect the godswood…won't he? I must be brave. Starks are brave. _She inhaled deeply, gathering all her courage and step by step, she made her way towards him and sat down, formal and composed.  
>Her pale blue eyes met his grey-green ones. There was mockery and mischief sparkling in his pupils. Why is he always like this? <em>Almost always. He wasn't like this when he kissed me.<br>_"Why don't you want me to tell my mother you are here?" She kept showering him with questions, even though he wasn't willing to answer any of them. This time, though, his expression changed. She realised she had finally spoken the right words.  
>"I'm not welcome here." He plainly stated and pressed his lips together in a thin line.<br>"Why?" she instantly replied. Her scarlet brows furrowed together, forming a soft frown on her forehead. Her question seemed to amuse him even more since his smirk widened.  
>"Cat and I haven't spoken in years, I'm afraid." He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.<br>_Vague answers; vague answers like mother gave me when I asked her about him. _She decided against asking him again why. She fell in silence and contemplation, avoiding his enticing emerald gaze. She watched the surface of the water instead, as the light breeze soothed it with small waves.  
>"I don't understand…" she began, basically thinking out loud. "Why are you here? What do you want?" She shook her head, feeling a hint of frustration rising in her chest. <em>Why am I here?<em>  
>Sansa felt both of his hands grasping one of hers; immediately, she casted her eyes back on him. His touch was gentle so she didn't try to pull her hand back just yet. <em>Do I even want to pull it back?<em> Her thoughts made her shudder.  
>"Have you ever left Winterfell, Sansa? Have you ever traveled?" Again, he avoided answering her questions. That infuriated her even more, though following the example of her mother, she continued appearing serene.<br>"No. Never." _What does he even care?_  
>"Do you want to?"<br>She nodded. All those dreams of the capital, the South, the knights and the kings and queens…so many dreams; so many illusions. He seemed pleased by her confession.  
>"The world is large and full of opportunities. But are they enough?"<br>"Enough?" Her frown deepened. His words confused her. She shifted in her position but her hand was still captivated in his hold.  
>"It doesn't matter what we want. Once we get it, then we want something else." He explained didactically.<br>She didn't respond. _Why is he telling me any of this?_ She felt ill at ease and pulled her hand back without much effort. _I should be praying for father. He has to leave._  
>"So what is it you will be praying for today?" He asked, as if he had just read her thoughts. She shivered and rubbed her hands together uncomfortably. Mockery had returned in his tone.<br>"My father is missing." She admitted. Her voice was weak again; quivering.  
>In that moment, she could swear to the Old Gods and the New that his eyes gleamed brightly.<br>"So I've heard." He responded vaguely.  
>"Is that why you are here?" The timing of his appearance along with her father's disappearance was fitting; though she couldn't imagine why the two events could possibly be connected. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment.<br>He gave her a puzzling look and brought a hand upon her cheek. Her skin tingled, as if his sudden touch had set it on fire.  
>"Such innocence." He muttered. His grey-green eyes pierced through hers.<br>_I have to stay focused. I have to stay calm. He won't…  
><em>Her thoughts didn't have a chance to be complete. Before she could back away, he had leaned in and his lips were on hers, swallowing her words, clouding her mind. She gasped at the contact; tempting but also intimidating. She turned away from his seductive kiss, forcing him to pull back.  
>"What are you doing?" She pressed the back of her hand against her lips and stood up from the rock so she could take a few steps away from him.<br>"I dare say you are more beautiful than your mother ever was." She heard him saying in a surprisingly soft voice. _Does he think that gives him permission to kiss me? No. But does he even need permission?  
><em>"I don't know what happened between you and my mother. I don't know why you are here, why you are following me, why you are…" _Kissing me._ She didn't dare saying it out loud. "Please, stay away from me. Please." She had gathered all her courage in order to speak such words to him. His enigmatic nature troubled her. Her thoughts about him troubled her.  
>A moment of silence followed. She had to look at him, to understand how he felt; but his features gave nothing away. The only difference was that his smirk had faded. He nodded and stood up as well. The sunlight reflected on the silver mockingbird pinned on his collar. <em>If I ask about it, it will only give him a reason to stay longer.<br>_"I hope the Gods will hear your prayers, Sansa." His tone was so serious that she could almost believe he actually meant that. "We will meet again." He added as he walked past her.  
>She turned around so her pale blue gaze could follow his elegant figure. His dark clothing made contrast with their colourful surroundings; like a wolf among sheep. He paused a few metres away from her and gifted her one of his most malevolent smirks so far, making another chill go down her spine.<br>"Stay away." She repeated. She tried to speak calmly but her voice trembled. He seemed amused by it and elevated his eyebrows. He nodded and strolled into the forest until her sight lost him.  
>Only then could Sansa feel herself breathing normally again. <em>Will he truly stay away? <em>Their meetings so far had done nothing more than confuse her, scare her and give her nightmares…and perhaps something more than that, which she refused to admit to herself. She returned to the rock by the Heart Tree and stared at the curved face upon the trunk. Her eyes fluttered shut. She emptied her mind of any other concerns; now she was alone, in the company of the Old Gods, the ones her father also believed in and prayed to. _Protect him, she thought. Protect him and bring him back to me._

By the time the sun had set, clouds had begun gathering in the sky, preventing the last rays of sunlight to touch the ground. The rain started falling when the Stark family was having dinner.  
>"Even the sky cries for our father." Bran murmured and poked a piece of meat on his plate with his fork.<br>"Don't say that, Bran." Rickon, the youngest, complained. Sorrow was sparkling in the little boy's eyes.  
><em>Such innocence, <em>Sansa heard Petyr Baelish's voice in her mind. She couldn't help but notice the glances Robb exchanged with their mother; if there had been any news from father, they would have said it, no matter how hard it would be. No wonder the more the days passed, the less hope grew. Robb would need to start preparing for the alternative scenario where he rules Winterfell and the North, in case their father never returns. Sansa picked up her cup of wine and gulped down all its contents hastily. The dinner was quiet, as if they were grieving already of a loss they couldn't be certain about. When they were all done eating, Bran chased Rickon around the table whereas Robb carried Arya around on his shoulders. Sansa and Catelyn were left alone sitting at the table.  
>"Do you think father will be found?" the red-haired maiden dared to ask her mother.<br>The candles' flames were dancing inside Catelyn's pupils, colouring her eyes with a darker azure tint. She reached over the table and touched her daughter's small, pale hands; a clear act of comfort.  
>"We will find Ned."<br>Such words could be spoken so easily and yet Sansa found a sad truth behind them; her mother truly believed them. Her hope, her denial, they wouldn't let her despair. She was drowning in a sorrowful serenity, just like Arya; just like all of them.  
>Sansa fiddled with her auburn locks. A queasy feeling had begun taking over her. <em>This time I must have drunk my wine very fast indeed. <em>She left the hall before her other siblings and went upstairs to her room, to undress and tuck in bed. Sleep came to her almost right away.  
>That night the stars were missing from the sky. That night dreams were missing from her sleep. The war that Petyr Baelish had started within her mind had ended; but the one he had started in reality was just beginning. When Sansa woke up, her life in Winterfell was long gone.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

She could no longer see the dark chestnut colour of the wood her ceiling was made of in her room in Winterfell; instead, she could only see black stone. Unfamiliar and cold. She would have sat up quickly but she was unable to. Her limbs felt sore, as if she hadn't moved for days. In terror, she turned her head only to see strange woman sitting beside her bed. She was fat, middle-aged, with black hair falling on her shoulders. Sansa's pale blue eyes widened because of the lack of recognition; yet, the woman smiled.  
>"We thought you would never wake up, child."<br>_We? Who is we?  
><em>"My name is Kella." The woman continued and moved the pillow below Sansa's head, helping her sit up.  
>The ease in the woman's tone was what worried Sansa the most. <em>She speaks like she knows me. Like I know her.<em> Her chest heaved up and down, controlling the deep breaths that she was taking. Anxiety, fear, she shouldn't let them win. _I am a Stark, I can be strong and brave.  
><em>"Where am I?" She managed to ask in a trembling voice.  
>Kella bit her lip and glanced at the door at the other side of the room.<br>"It's not my place to tell you any of that, child." She stroked Sansa's auburn tresses and gave her another wry smile. "Come. You must be hungry."  
>Sansa shuddered and pulled the blanket higher on her body. She was still wearing her usual night gown. <em>What has happened?<br>_"I don't want to get up." She whispered weakly but Kella was already pulling the covers off of her.  
>"There is a collection of gowns in the wardrobe, I trust a few will be to your liking, m' lady." The woman added before stepping away and exiting the room.<br>Sansa's hands were shaking as she supported herself on the mattress and sat with her legs hanging off the edge of the bed. The air was different; less cold and it smelled differently. She couldn't recognise it. She looked around the poorly furnished room. Apart from the bed, there was the wardrobe, a night-table, a mirror, a desk and a chair, all of them in darker colour than she was used to. Her first attempt to stand up was a failed one; her sore legs wouldn't hold her so she collapsed back down. With another, more careful try she managed to stand up fully on her feet and make her way to the wardrobe. Just like Kella had said, only a few dresses were to her liking. The size seemed proper, though pretty much all the gowns were coloured with dull shades of green, grey or black. She slipped out of her Winterfell night-gown and changed into a light green one, for the time being. _Until I realise what is going on and where I am…  
><em>She checked herself out in the mirror; green was a colour she wasn't wearing often but she couldn't deny it was going well with her pale blue eyes and her auburn hair; a harmony of colours. She huffed, realising that there was no comb around her in the room. She used her fingers to brush her hair until it looked decent. She took a deep breath. _I have to stay brave.  
><em>She left the room. She had to descend a staircase in order to arrive at a small hall. There was a large table in the centre, already served with morning dishes. There were two goblets of wine so she assumed Kella would join her sooner or later and give her a good explanation; her mind, so rich with dreams and tales, was failing in providing her with one. She took a seat at the table and folded her hands delicately on her lap, her azure gaze roaming around her unfamiliar surroundings.  
>She had been waiting for quite some time but no one would join her; therefore, she decided to go ahead with eating. Only when she picked up the fork did she realise how her stomach was screaming to be fed; as if she hadn't eaten for days. She filled her plate with two pieces of mince pie and devoured them quickly. Her throat felt dry so she also took a few sips from the goblet of wine. Her stomach was almost full when she heard a door behind her opening, the old wood creaking due to its oldness. She turned around to see if it was Kella who at last decided to join her…but no, it wasn't Kella. Sansa felt the colour draining from her cheeks and her face going pale. Her stomach turned and she felt like she was going to be sick. Her body urged her to stand up, to either run away or slap him across the face; but before she could do either his hands were on her shoulders, keeping her down on her chair.<br>"Forgive my delay, sweetling, I'm afraid I was caught up in…business."  
>His voice felt like loud drums in her ears. She closed her eyes and inhaled sharply, realising she hadn't been breathing in the past few seconds. He released her shoulders and took a seat at the table as well, next to her; only then she dared to look at him again. Dressed in a brown cloak, with a matching tunic and breeches, Petyr Baelish was staring at her, his grey-green eyes as deep as the ocean gleaming with amusement.<br>"You must excuse my humble abode, I'm afraid I do not come from a large castle as you do." He wiggled his eyebrows and tuted. "You look pale, sweetling. Have some more wine." He refilled her goblet from a flagon of wine placed on the table.  
>He pushed it towards her but she shook her head. More wine would definitely make her sick. She crossed her fingers on her lap and tried to steady her hands, preventing them from shaking further. Was it because of rage or because of fear? She swallowed.<br>"Where am I?" She made a great effort to stop her voice from breaking.  
>Such satisfaction was laced on his features that she wanted to stand up and smack him; that wouldn't be very lady-like. She pressed her lips together in a thin line. <em>I have to be self-collected, like mother.<br>_"The Fingers, where I come from." He plainly replied with a shrug of his shoulders.  
><em>The Fingers…<em>_four narrow peninsulas of the Vale of Arryn. That's a long way from home…  
>"<em>But how…" She dared to meet his gaze. No wonder her pale blue eyes were filled with curiosity. _This can't be real…Soon I will wake up._  
>"You'd be surprised at how even the modest men of the North accept a decent amount of money in return for their useful services." He took a sip of his goblet of wine.<br>_He can see right through me.  
><em>"You drank wine during your last dinner in Winterfell. It made you tired and dizzy. Such a good opportunity to have someone smuggle you away, don't you think?" He arched an eyebrow. She could swear her curiosity was reflecting on his face as well. _He wants me to think…to understand his malevolent plans. _She wrapped her slender arms around her body and shuddered. Her gaze dropped to her food. _If I look in his eyes for a little while longer, I will scream.  
><em>"Why are you doing this?" Her voice was like a strangled sound. She had begun shaking. _I need to go home…  
><em>He chuckled and reached over to place a hand on her quivering arms. His touch was surprisingly warm and gentle.  
>"You will find out in time. Let's enjoy this breakfast now, shall we?" His voice was grating but when their eyes met, he was smiling at her so widely she could almost believe it was genuine.<br>"I'm not hungry anymore…I want to go home." Her auburn eyebrows furrowed. Was it the thought of home that gave her strength? "They will look for me. They will find me and my brother will have your head." _Have I already accepted that father is out of the picture?_  
>"Perhaps…though considering how dutifully you handled the situation and didn't tell anyone about our meetings, do you truly believe someone will look for you here?" He cocked his head to the side.<br>_He is mocking me._ The Fingers were a small, poor area no one cared about. It had no power, no profit, no wealth. No one would think anyone from there had a motive to snatch her away.  
>"Then maybe I will run away." She stated in a steady tone.<br>"By all means." His eyes were challenging. Only then did she realise his fingers were stroking her arm. "There is nowhere to go, sweetling. Your stay here won't be too long, I promise you. No harm will come to you."  
><em>But harm has already come to me<em>, she wanted to reply but stopped herself from doing so. She simply nodded. There wasn't much she could do for the time being. Yet the silence only encouraged him to continue his touches instead of words. His fingered trailed her arm, her shoulder and brushed against her neck. His skin was cold but how could it set hers on fire? She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a whimper. He smirked.  
>"Come, my lady. Let's take a walk outside."<br>He stood up and walked towards one of the doors of the hall. He opened it and waited for her to join him. She was reluctant. _What am I supposed to do?_ Play along with his game and see where it leads. It was a dangerous game, kidnapping the daughter of the Warden of the North. _I will play along and work on a solution. _She followed him and together they strolled through a hallway until they reached a small open gate. The scenery she witnessed outside was unfamiliar; stony, treeless and gloomy. The wind was rough; she could hear it whistling. The further outside they went, the more she could feel the strong breeze slapping her face. They walked silently on a stony path. She was looking around, examining her new surroundings. There weren't many houses and even those that were actually there, they looked small and poor. He must have noticed her curious gaze so he made a comment.  
>"The Fingers is the right place to be, if you are a rock."<br>She wanted to smile at that statement but she held herself back.  
>"All this belong to me by right. Strange isn't it? Some inherit the throne, some inherit the greatest castles in the Seven Kingdoms, and others inherit stones." He elicited a snorting laugh.<br>"Some don't inherit anything." She murmured.  
>"Clever girl." He seemed satisfied with her indication. "There is no power to seek if you are living at the Fingers."<br>"And is it power you are seeking?" She quickly regretted asking that.  
>He never answered. They both fell back in silence and continued their course on the path. Walking relieved the previous soreness she was feeling but it was also replacing it by tiredness. With a careless step, she stumbled on a stone and lost her balance. Everything happened in half a heartbeat. Before she would fall, his arms were suddenly around her, supporting her against him. Her hands landed on his chest and she tried to regain balance. She realised she had closed her eyes because of the fear of falling. She opened them again slowly and looked up at him. Their faces were so close that she could feel his breath against her features. The mockery and amusement had vanished from his expression; there was something else there now. Concern<em>? How dare I think that…He does not care.<br>_Their eye-contact was becoming more and more intense so she had to break it. He released her from his hold, making sure she was steady again.  
>"Mind your step."<br>Those were the only words he spoke until they returned to his abode. She couldn't call it a castle but it was a much larger and more decent house than the other ones she had seen during their walk. He escorted her to her room and leaned against the doorframe when she sat down on her bed.  
>"Kella will prepare a bath for you. It will help you relax." He seemed absent-minded. "I will see you later. I am sure there is more we need to discuss."<br>Sansa nodded and watched him turning away and leaving. She was alone again, in an unknown land, with people she didn't know and trust. She stroked the fur of the blanket. It reminded her of the sigil of her House; a direwolf. She couldn't imagine how devastated her mother must have been when she found out her eldest daughter was missing. Robb would be furious…_but, but maybe father has returned by now? Maybe that could give them hope…_  
>She felt her eyes flooding with tears but she refused to let them run down her cheeks. She sniffled and gripped the fur. <em>I want to go home. I shouldn't be here. Why did he bring me here…<br>_A part of her wanted to hate him for what he had done, taking her away from her family and not even being clear about the reason why. But she kept remembering his face when he held her earlier. She had never seen him so unguarded, not even when he had kissed her.  
>Kella joined her soon and the hot water as well as the flowery scent washed her troubled thoughts away.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

Out of her still soaked hair fell several water-drops and traveled down her nape; she could barely feel them. Auburn tresses like fire and yet, cold as ice. Nonchalantly, she stroked the wooden surface of the desk and looked outside the small window. _This is my prison._ The view was as poor and empty as her heart. Her thoughts roamed to the North, pondering what her family was up to, what their plans were of finding her. She sighed. _He was right, they will never find me here.  
><em>Kella had left a while ago, after having helped her with her bath. Sansa looked over her shoulder; the door was unlocked but what would be the point of running? She was supposed to become a princess, not some runaway girl that wandered the roads and forests in danger of being caught, killed or raped. She looked outside the window again and released a deep breath; he had said she wouldn't have to stay here for long. Did that mean he would take her back to her family…_and impress my mother? _That plan sounded too foolish for someone like him.  
>After a while, Sansa heard the door creaking as it flung open. She didn't have to look to know who it was; his reflection on the window was clear enough. He didn't greet her; he only stepped inside and shut the door behind him. With every step he took, the floor crepitated. He must have stopped when he was right behind her chair. She watched his hand tracing the hollow of her neck; it made her shudder but she didn't react. His forefinger trailed her skin all the way up to her cheek and pressed against it, ever so gently. His thumb rested below her chin and he guided her head to tilt back so she would look up at him. She obeyed, though the oceanic blue eyes that met his grey-green ones were blank; or at least she tried to appear that way. He seemed to be studying her for a short moment before releasing her. He moved to stand right next to the desk so they could both see each other properly. A smirk had returned to his sharp features.<br>"Kella used the right soap. Your hair smells like roses. It is rather fitting with the colour."  
>She didn't know what to say to that. Therefore, noticing her silence, he averted his attention to another subject.<br>"I am sure you have many questions. I trust I will not be able to answer them all, but we can give it a try, shall we, sweetling?" There was mockery in his tone but she had started to getting used to it.  
>She simply nodded. So many questions and yet she didn't know where to start. He leaned against the desk, with his arms folded against his chest. Amused, he watched her trying to articulate her first question.<br>"Um…" she bit her bottom lip. _Stop being so weak_, she scolded herself. _Look at him in the eyes._ And so she did. "How long will I be here?"  
>He arched an eyebrow. No wonder he wasn't expecting this to be the first question. "A few days. Maybe a week." He responded easily.<br>"Why am I here?" She managed to emphasise on the first word as much as possible.  
>His lips parted and revealed his perfectly shaped white teeth. He was grinning so enigmatically that it made her shiver. She shifted on her chair, to ease out of her discomfort.<br>"Do you know who our King is, sweetling? And his Hand?"  
>It was Sansa who had to smirk sarcastically now. Even Arya had such essential knowledge.<br>"King Robert of the House Baratheon and his Hand Jon Arryn." She answered nevertheless, to see where he was getting at.  
>"Yes. King Robert has a son, Joffrey, who had grown to the age of getting betrothed and eventually wed." Petyr's eyes sparkled so brightly that she had to look down briefly.<br>"I don't understand…" she began but he raised his hand and stopped her.  
>"How would you feel if I told you that you are going to be a Queen?"<br>Sansa's mouth opened but no words came out. She stared at him, in both surprise and disbelief. The puzzle started making sense, if only she put the pieces together correctly. She puffed in realisation of what he meant.  
>"You are going to pretend you are the hero who found me? And offer me to wed Princess Joffrey?" She blinked, confused. "They will never believe you. You could be lying and I could be anyone."<br>He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Yes. Therefore King Robert will summon your father to the capital to reassure your identity."  
>His mention of her father took her aback. Infuriated, she tossed up from the chair. "My father is missing and you know that. I told you that." She tried to calm down her enraged breath but it was no use. She was new to such malevolent conspiracies but he seemed certain of the obscure paths they were going to cross."Did you have anything to do with his disappearance?"<br>She must have started shaking since Petyr grasped her shoulders and steadied her. "Your father is going to return home soon. Surprisingly, I wasn't the one who wanted to harm him." _More vague words, _she thought. "He will be fine."  
>Sansa's sight was blurry with tears when she looked up at him. <em>How can I trust him?<br>_"You needn't worry about your father now, sweetling. Everything will be more clear to you, in time." With those words he seemed to be sealing their conversation on the matter for now. There were still loopholes that needed to be filled but she had to wait. She nodded and closed her eyes, swallowing down her anger. _Why is this happening to me? _His fingertips were wandering on her neck, on her cheek, on her lips but her emotional fatigue didn't let her react. Chills went down her spine when his icy lips pressed on the corner of her mouth and then her chin.  
>"Why…" He silenced the rest of her words with his mouth on hers. His large hands held her cheeks and she heard his breath hitching at the contact. She savoured the familiar minty taste, just like the first time he had kissed her. It was more gentle now but nevertheless, she turned away after a short moment. She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and kept her head bowed down. His wicked ways were conquering her innocence; his expert seduction made her weak to the knees and ill at ease at the same time. His look reflected his longing and hunger; that only scared her and made her shiver again. She wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive position.<br>"What happened w…with you and my mother?" Her voice was shaky again. _Seven Hells!  
><em>"Sansa…"  
>"You said I could ask you anything." A warm single tear rolled down her pale cheek. "You owe me that."<br>His eyebrows furrowed but the mockery and amusement had vanished from his expression. He sat down on her bed and motioned to her to sit next to him. She shook her head but he insisted. Cautiously and reluctantly, she gave in and sat down. For a moment, he studied her carefully and she took the opportunity to do the same. Locks of silver would appear amongst his short black hair and the stubble that covered his chin and partly his cheeks. She had noticed that his eyes gleamed differently depending on the situation, like a mask that either fell or became one with his true face.  
>"When I was eight, I was sent to Riverrun as a ward. My father was proud." He began so she had to jump out of her thoughts and listen to him; could this be a way to understand him better? "When living under the same roof, awkward situations seem to occur." He paused and he looked away from her. Was he referring to his feelings for her mother? <em>Could it be that after all these years, it was still troubling him? Perhaps even hurting him? "<em>Do you know that your mother was first betrothed with Brandon Stark? Your uncle."  
>She nodded weakly. She couldn't help but notice that the corner of his mouth had curved in repulsion of the name he had just spoken of; or that's what she guessed.<br>"I challenged him to a duel for her hand. I mean why not, I had read all the stories. The little hero always beats the big villain in all the stories." He chuckled. "We all do such foolish mistakes. In the end, she wouldn't even let him kill me. He left me with a scar to remember him by and off they went."  
>Their eyes met again. His mask was on but somehow Sansa believed that he had spoken the truth. It was the truth that had created this mask; she could see that now.<br>"I didn't see her again after that. I learnt about her wedding to Ned Stark." He shrugged. "I had dared to dream the future we could have and the heirs she would give me." His vain smile was back, covering all the emotions such a sentimental confession could arise. "I may not have earned her hand but your mother gave me a more precious gift; one women can give only once." He raised his hand and brushed the back of his fingers against her cheekbone.  
>Such words took her aback. Her mother had always been too dutiful to ever give her maidenhead to someone she wasn't married to.<br>"No…" She murmured, distracting herself from the touch of his hand. "No, she wouldn't do that."  
>"And yet."<br>She gaped at him blankly. _Could my mother have done such a thing? _She always said that Petyr Baelish had been like a little brother to her; nothing more. She set her disbelief aside and simply nodded, choosing to end their conversation there. From the window she could see that the sun was about to set in the west and hide until it was morrow. _My first day at the Fingers_, she thought. _Away from my family, feeling helpless, trapped in a plan that I didn't choose for myself._  
>Soon after, he stood up from her bed and walked to the door. "Dinner will be served soon. I will see you downstairs." His toneless voice sent a fearful shiver down her spine. He didn't expect an answer; he plainly walked out of her room, leaving her alone in the dim light of sunset.<br>The spot on the bed on which he was sat was still warm. She felt the fur with her hand; if only his heart was just as warm. His past feelings for her mother didn't clear the image of his motive but at least it helped her earn a better understanding of his persona.  
>Kella had luckily left her a brush. She used it to brush her hair until darkness started overcoming the day. Then, she descended to the hall, to find Petyr already seated at the table and Kella serving tonight's dish. It was a disk filled with lemon cakes that caught Sansa's immediate attention. Kella must have noticed how her expression changed; and no wonder so has he.<br>"Lord Baelish knew you like lemon cakes, child." The woman said with a toothy smile. "Sit down, enjoy them."  
>"That's enough." Petyr gave her a stern look, so the woman bowed and left the room. Only then did Sansa notice the paper he was holding. There was a seal upon it but she couldn't make out of which House it was; was it a stag?<br>She sat down and filled her plate with two lemon cakes. She tried to focus on them and avoid looking at him; he kept rereading whatever was written on the paper while taking sips of his goblet of wine. The silence was frustrating and eerie but at least she had the opportunity to enjoy her meal. The familiar taste of lemons certainly felt pleasing and homey.  
>"I have some news for you, sweetling." His sudden declaration almost made her jump. She took a gulp of wine to swallow down the bite that almost stuck in her throat and looked at him through the candlelight; it made his features seem more fierce and enigmatic.<br>"Is…is it about my father?" She asked apprehensively but to her disappointment, he shook his head.  
>"Gods, no." He snorted and rolled the paper closed. "It's news from the capital."<br>Sansa raised her eyebrows with surprise. _Why should I care about news from the capital? Those are his plans, not mine._ His wide sinister smirk showed that he was deeply satisfied with those news.  
>"Jon Arryn is dead."<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Behind the mountains flickered the first rays of dawning sunlight. The horse's hoofs made splashing sounds as they buried in the mud with each step the mount took. The man had his face pressed against the horse's neck and he was barely holding on from its mane.  
>"Halt! Who's there?" Ser Rodrik Cassel yelled from above Winterfell's Walls.<br>The rider gave no answer. Considering the way he was hanging from the horse, he could as well be dead.  
>Suspicious, the master-at-arms descended to the gate and drew his sword cautiously, approaching the horse along with two other guards.<br>"Who is asking to enter?" He asked again with determination.  
>The man tried to sit up on the horse's back but he only ended up falling off completely and collapsing to the muddy ground. The knights looked at each other, with curiosity as well as suspicion. Alone this time, Ser Rodrik neared and pressed his boot on the man's shoulder, to push him to lie on his back. His face was covered with dirt and bleeding cuts and a thick beard hid his chin and jaw. He had blacked out. Something about him though felt strangely familiar. The knight beckoned the other guards to help him carry the man inside the walls and take his horse to the stable. They laid the stranger in a resting chamber and washed his face with a wet cloth. In the candlelight, the familiarity was confirmed. It was Ser Rodrik who noticed it and pushed amongst the others, to kneel next to the sleeping man and thank the Old Gods. His eyes were widened with surprise and he yelped when the man opened his eyes weakly.<br>"Lord Stark!"

Sansa woke up when the first beams of light invaded from her window. The sun was warmer there, and brighter. There were times back in Winterfell when she would get tired of the cold and crave the southern warmth. The Fingers certainly weren't like the capital or Highgarden or Dorne of course, but the difference was still felt; and yet she couldn't appreciate it. She rolled on her other side so her back was facing the window. She thought of her discussion with Petyr Baelish last night at dinner. Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, was dead. Fever took him, he told her. The next closest friend to Robert Baratheon was her father. Petyr seemed certain that by now he would have returned to Winterfell and soon the King would pay him a visit, to offer him to be his Hand. She couldn't help but suspect his certainty but he claimed he knew what had happened and he would tell her when the time was right. All the secrets, all the mysteries and the lies, they were making it hard to adapt. _I wish father was here…he would keep me safe…  
><em>She didn't want to get out of bed and go through another day at that unfamiliar, dull place. _This isn't home._ She squeezed the pillow and buried her face in it. It was fluffy and it smelled fresh and clean. Another memory of Winterfell sneaked in; Lady Catelyn always made sure the sheets, the furs and the pillows were often cleaned and pleasantly scented.  
>She had almost drifted off again when she heard a knock on the door. She had been expecting it sooner or later. Considering how Kella had served her so far, she would be up to help her get dressed and brush her hair; or was that too royal to be true?<br>"Yes?" She mumbled and glanced at the door that creaked open.  
>It wasn't Kella. It was him. A sudden blood-rush coloured her cheeks with a scarlet shade and she pulled the furs up to her chin immediately.<br>"Lord Baelish." She muttered in surprise. She had decided that was the most decent way to address him. They weren't acquainted enough – or were they? – to call him by his first name and using his nickname would be rude. He was dressed differently today, just a pair of brown breeches and matching boots and a white tunic of which the top buttons were undone. His casual clothing made her blush more and look away. _What is he doing?  
><em>"Good morrow, sweetling. I trust you slept well?" He clasped his hands together and smirked; she could see it almost clearly from the corner of her eyes.  
>She kept silent and nodded. Dressed in her nightgown and tucked in bed, she was feeling uneasy around someone who wasn't much more than a stranger to her; one that followed her in the godswood, one that kissed her and kidnapped her and told her about his past and plans for her, partly at least, but she was still in the process of knowing him.<br>"I was wondering if you would like to join me for horse riding, after breaking your fast? You have been taught how to mount, yes?"  
>She arched an eyebrow at him, taken aback by such an offer. <em>Is he going to pretend that I am not his prisoner? <em>She stretched her neck upwards so she could see him better. His sly smirk was there, distorting his features with malevolence.  
>"Yes…I'd like to." It wouldn't be any use to reject his offer. After all, she had nothing else to do in this foreign to her land.<br>"I will see you downstairs." Pleased with her agreement, he graced her with another quirky smile before departing and shutting the door behind him.  
><em>He could have just told me while we are breaking our fast…<em>  
>Her cheeks were still burning when she got up from the bed. Kella didn't pay her a visit that morning. Perhaps Lord Baelish had found other tasks for her. Sansa brushed her hair and gazed out of the window. Every minute she spent away from home made her feel as if her heart was hardening. She changed into a black gown with grey laces and circular lines sewed on its fabric and descended to the hall.<p>

After they had broken their fast, Kella brought a light grey cotton cloak for Sansa and helped her adjust it to her dress.  
>"Shall we go?" Petyr's enigmatic smirk shined when he opened the door and beckoned her to follow him outside.<br>The weather wasn't much different to yesterday. The sky was clear and the sun was travelling towards its middle. Walking closely behind him, she followed him to the stables.  
>"Lord Baelish." A short middle-aged man with barely any white hair on his head crept out of the amounts of wheat tossed all over the stable and greeted the lord with a bow. Sansa guessed he was the stableman.<br>"Barth." Lord Baelish greeted the man with a nonchalant nod. "Prepare two horses for us, if you will."  
>"Which ones, my lord?"<br>Petyr turned to Sansa. Their eyes met. She felt like he was calculating her thoughts and movements.  
>"The lady will choose hers." Petyr muttered at the end and guided Sansa further into the stables.<br>"As you command, my lord."  
>She could count at least ten horses; though from the first moment they walked in, one had caught her immediate attention.<br>"That one." She pointed at the tall white horse with light brown mane.  
>"His name is Fog." The stableman blurted out from behind them.<br>"Get Stormwind for me." Petyr instructed him before walking outside with her to wait.  
>She followed him silently, avoiding saying another word. As they waited, she averted her attention to the scenery around her. She wondered how they were supposed to ride on such a stony ground but she assumed Petyr knew what he was doing. <em>He needs me, he won't let me get hurt…<em>  
>"Why did you choose that horse?" He suddenly asked her.<br>She shrugged. "I just liked that one better."  
>White for innocence. Brown for slight corruption. <em>His kisses…<br>_The stableman didn't take long to walk out of the stable with their horses prepared with their reins and saddle. Sansa pulled herself up easily and mounted the horse. She had always preferred more lady-like activities but being taught how to ride was considered necessary by her father. Petyr mounted his horse as well and pulled the reins, bestriding away.  
>"Follow me." He called to her over his shoulder.<br>Her horse pranced after his. His steed was pure black and contrasted his white tunic. She caught up with him and rode beside him. They followed a pebbly path that led them out of that sparsely populated place. The rocks seemed to only be getting larger but the path was clear. They continued their course in silence and rode up a cragged hill. When they reached the top, Petyr stopped his horse and she imitated him. She didn't have time to wonder why they stopped; the scenery lying ahead of them took her breath away. They were facing the top part of the Narrow Sea, the part that met the Shivering Sea. It was the first time she saw the ocean. The horizon, dressed in a dark shade of blue, carried the water further that the eye could meet. She stared at the blue abyss with awe.  
>"I figured you haven't seen the sea before." Petyr spoke calmly from next to her. His voice faded in her amazement. "There are so many places in the world but we don't have the time to see them all."<br>Sansa had always been curious what the Free Cities looked like, how different the civilisation there was, even though her dreams rested in the castles of her own land. Life in Winterfell lacked the privilege of travelling, at least so far. She had asked her father once whether they would have to move when winter came. "The Starks will endure. They always had" he had told her. She valued and respected the Stark strength and endurance, even if it demolished her hopes and dreams of traveling. She could feel it running in her veins constantly now that she had been taken away from her home.  
>"It's beautiful." She couldn't think of a better word for such a sight. <em>This is the first pleasant outcome of my rapture…<em>  
>"The city of Braavos is almost straight ahead from where we are. Sometimes you can scarcely spot the curves of the land." Petyr pulled the reins of his horse and put an end to the pause of their course.<br>Riding side by side, they went down the hill and approached the sea even more. The more they neared, the vaguer the path was becoming. They had to stop again and dismount. Lord Petyr tied their horses to a rock and they continued on foot. The wind was stronger there and it blew her auburn locks behind her shoulders. The smell of moisture mixed with salt coming from the sea pierced through her nostrils; exciting and invigorating. Petyr lend her a hand every time they had to jump off a rock in order to descend lower and reach the level of the water. When they finally arrived at the seaside, he guided her to a small pebbly shore that was hiding discreetly behind the huge rocks that covered the rest of the area. The breeze was blowing to the opposite direction, so the surface of the water was calm and it splashed the shore ever so lightly.  
>Sansa kneeled down next to the sea and immersed her hand in it. It was cool and clear as crystal. Further ahead she spotted a small fish floating around. She had to smile, as it made her think of her mother. The sigil of House Tully was a fish. Lady Catelyn spoke of them sometimes; how she, Lysa, Edmure and Petyr used to fish at the river in Riverrun. Her father Lord Hoster wasn't always pleased with them, he considered it a non lady-like activity; but Catelyn loved it. She missed Riverrun and the fish, she had admitted to her one night, after a bedtime story.<br>"Pretty, isn't it?" Lord Petyr stood next to her, with his gaze fixed ahead.  
>She stood up and straightened her gown. The colour of his eyes matched the one of the water. Her cheeks burnt with a sudden flush and she imitated his staring afar.<br>"Yes, it is. I've always wanted to see the sea." _But he knows that already, doesn't he?  
><em>"The sea is full of mysteries and opportunities. Many men invest in ships." His tone was thoughtful this time. Distant and pensive.  
>"Even you?" She turned to look at him with sudden curiosity. She realised she knew more about his past than she did about his present.<br>He chuckled at her question.  
>"No. I've found that other kinds of business make better investments."<br>She swallowed and held herself back from asking more about it. Considering his obscure persona, she didn't even want to know in what kind of business he was involved in.  
>He flopped down on the gravels and beckoned her to do the same. Once she did, he unlaced his boots and took them off, rolled his breeches up to his knees and placed his legs in the water, up to his calves. She looked at him in surprise. <em>Why did he bring me here?<br>_"Go ahead." The rosy colour returned to her cheeks and she rubbed her hands together nervously. She kept feeling as if he was looking inside her mind. _He is reading me like an open book…  
><em>She bit her lip and took off her boots hesitantly, lifting her gown to the level of her knees. The exposure intensified the blush that kept spreading on her face. With a side-glance she could see how amused he was. She closed her eyes when her legs sank in the shallow water. The feeling was new and overwhelming; nothing compared to a bath. The water felt more refreshing and exhilarating. Full of mysteries, he had said…  
>She tilted her head back and smiled. She could see the sky even behind her closed eyelids. She listened to the water spattering the small stones. She felt the flows wrapping around her legs and drifting her away to unexplored places.<br>A hand cupped her cheek and warm lips pressed to hers. For the first time, that didn't disturb her internal peace…


	7. Chapter 7

Was it the sea that had dragged her in a state of delirium?  
>Sansa found herself lying on the gravels; though she was still, her hands and lips were moving as if she wasn't the one operating them. Dainty fingers grabbed black raven-like locks and tugged on them. Scarlet lips ignited with passion as he was devouring them. He was on top of her, clinging to her urgently; the breeze carried away his heavy breath and mixed it with the sound of the water hitting the shore ever so gently. His hands were tracing every inch of her body, as if to get to know it. On her arms, on her sides, on her hips, on her thighs, he was caressing her, so slowly and yet so ruthlessly. Like an intruder, his tongue slipped past her parted lips and tasted her ravenously. Every touch was new and exciting but also kind of frightening. He was seducing her and she was giving in. A stranger, an abductor, full of cunning and enigmas…She couldn't suppress a moan when he began grinding his hips against hers; due to her innocence, it was unexpected. His warm palms, steadily and expertly, were grazing her thighs, lifting her gown up along the way. Waves of shivering ran down her spine; she was breathless. Her heartbeat was raged and an unfamiliar warmth was streaming through her veins. <em>Is this what wanting feels like?<br>_His soft lips descended from her mouth to her neck; as they brushed on her skin, in such an alluring manner, she gripped his hair and moaned again, not just once since he began biting and sucking on her neck. Like a magnet, his body was calling for hers and she responded by pressing against him. Her thoughts were ruffled and her body shaky. The most tremendous strike of desire came when he glided his hand on her inner thigh, so close to her private area that she had to gasp for air. The temptation he was offering to her was overwhelming but it wasn't right; not like this.  
>"Petyr…" His first name slipped out without difficulty but their panting swallowed it.<br>She tried to move but her body was captivated beneath his. His fingers were moving closer and closer and her legs had begun to quiver with anticipation. She pulled his hair with all the strength she could master in such a moment of weakness and she guided his face away from her neck, so they were facing each other.  
>"Don't" she barely muttered. She feared he wouldn't listen but he proved her wrong.<br>His hand rested on her exposed thigh and his grey-green eyes locked with hers. His pupils had magnified; _is it because of the craving?_ His breath was quick and his lips slightly swollen from the fierce kisses. They gazed into each other's eyes as if seeing them for the first time. No words were exchanged. Eventually, their breathing went back to normal and their tense bodies relaxed against each other. Only then did Sansa realise that her cheeks were burning as if she had set them on fire. Involuntarily, her fingers moved through his hair; this time the grip was loose and her movements slow and…_affectionate? _He smiled at her wryly, slyly and she responded with a shy smile of her own. Her eyes fluttered shut when Petyr leaned closer and planted three warm kisses on the side of her face. She felt him shifting and rolling off, only to lie next to her instead.  
>Humming seagulls flew above them and moved in circles in the sky, their white colour contrasting the blue. Sansa had always preferred other birds that chirped more melodically, but their presence came along with the sea. She could focus on its smell again as well as the feeling of the tiny waves oftentimes splashing her feet. All those sensations had vanished when he had lit up the fire between them.<br>She dared to turn her head to the side and look at him; he was staring at the sky but his expression reflected no emotion. Their hands were laid next to each other but they weren't touching. She swallowed thickly and the words that were on the tip of her tongue streamed out as whispers.  
>"Why…why are you behaving like this with me if you are going to give me to Prince Joffrey?"<br>She shuddered and looked away again. _Foolish girl, this is not a growing fondness, only vain pleasure and manipulation, _she scolded herself_._  
>Her breath caught in her throat when Petyr took her hand. She could feel his gaze on her but she didn't have the courage to meet his piercing eyes.<br>"To get what we want, sometimes we must go through a tough road first" he muttered.  
>He squeezed her hand and brushed his thumb on its back. Every question she asked in hope of clarification of his actions only made her even more confused. The godswood, the feast, the rapture; was it her that he wanted or was she just a pawn in his game, whose utter aim was Catelyn?<br>"And what do you want?" This time their eyes met. She searched the depths of his, desperately striving to find a spark of honesty.  
>"Everything" he responded vaguely after a few seconds.<br>The epiphany left her staring at him, with curiosity, surprise and contemplation. As if she wasn't participant in the moment, she watched him leaning in to kiss her one more time briefly before sitting up on the small stones. The seagulls were gone and the white on the sky was now due to the clouds that had begun gathering.  
>"We should head back. It might start raining soon" he stated while putting his boots back on.<br>She didn't want to leave but there was no choice. The sea had been exhilarating and revealing. When they would have returned, it would only feel like an illusion; like a dream. She sat up too and pulled her dress to its normal length, straightening the wrinkles his seductive hands had caused. She put on her boots and stood up, taking a moment to look at the sea one last time. The horizon appeared blurrier; mist had started falling and the wind, though soft, was becoming colder. _Perhaps one day we will return by the sea…_  
>She bit the inside of her cheek when she felt his arms wrapping around her from the behind. His warm breath blew against her hair, her neck and her ear and his smooth lips brushed on her skin.<br>"We will return, I promise you" he said as if he had read her thoughts. Another promise he could easily not keep. _Does it matter to him?  
><em>The kiss he placed on her neck said yes but her suspicion and caution said otherwise. He released her and the couple left the stony shore.

They found their horses where they had left them. Soon after they had mounted them and rode away, the sky was fully grey and raindrops began falling while they were still on the way. The barely habited place seemed even more lonely and sorrowful, quiet and isolated with the sound of the rain. Sansa pulled up her hood, protecting her auburn hair from being damp. Petyr didn't have that luxury. They left the horses at the stable and rushed back to the house. He stayed by her side at all times, even when it meant being more soaked by the rain.  
>"Seven Hells, Lord Baelish!" Kella yelled once they were inside. She hurried to them with two freshly washed capes and tossed them over their shoulders. "Come on then, milady, sit by the fire" with a dutiful smile, she dragged Sansa at the corner of the room, to the fireplace.<br>"Prepare dinner for us, Kella" Petyr commanded, shooting a strict look to the woman.  
>She obeyed and left the two alone in the hall. The fire radiated warmth and light. Sansa thought of how much her mother enjoyed sitting by the fireplace in Winterfell. They would sew together sometimes. When her mother was busy, Old Nan narrated stories to her and her siblings. Bran and Arya always preferred those with knights, murder and war. Sansa preferred the ones about romance, castles, princes and princesses. Rickon was still too young to have a preference, though he accepted listening to all kinds of stories. She had to smile at the memory.<br>"You should change into dry clothes, sweetling. We wouldn't want you catching a cold now, would we?" Lord Baelish spoke as he sat on the divan next to her.  
>She nodded and looked at him. His wet, short black locks had stuck on his forehead, dripping with raindrops as if he was the sky. A strongest wave of warmth ran through her; <em>did the fire grow bigger?<br>_"If this is your home-place, why do you have no family here?" she asked him suddenly. Every time she was in the hall, she couldn't help but notice that there were no portraits or statues of descendants nor items that seemed to have a sentimental family value.  
><em>Are all my questions so funny<em>, she pondered when his usual smirk flashed on his face.  
>"My father was the last one left. He died a few years back" he shrugged. "That is why I am the lord here now."<br>It was strange to think that a place like this actually had a lord. During her education with Maester Luwin, House Baelish wasn't even mentioned in the history of noble houses. She guessed it was truly small.  
>Silence fell between the two of them. She had to rise and change clothes but the fire was demanding from her to stay. She held her cold hands close to the burning wood and allowed the flames to caress them with their heat.<br>"Here, let me." Before she could retort, he took her hands and held them loosely.  
>She was startled by how warm his hands were, even though the rain had doused him more than her. Her cheeks began to burn due to his cosy grasp. The flames danced in his gleaming grey-green eyes and his wet lips glistened. <em>I should go…I should go before he hexes me again…<br>_Their hands were resting on his lap, upon the wet fabric of his breeches. His tunic was just as soaked, beneath the cape Kella had provided him with. They both ought to change but neither of them made a move to do so. A thunder struck outside and its light flashed through the windows. It made her jump but his hold tightened and comforted her instantly.  
>"Storms strike this place often, I'm afraid" he rustled.<br>"We didn't have storms often in Winterfell…just rain and snow" she recollected. Robb liked the rain but Rickon was afraid of if; therefore, his eldest brother would stay with him and recite stories about brave knights in battles under the rain.  
>"You are not in Winterfell anymore" he reminded her with a quirk of his eyebrows. "The capital is south. The weather is much different there as well."<br>She nodded in understanding of his words. She would have to adapt; just like she was adapting now; to the weather, to the place, to Kella, to him…  
>She lowered her gaze to their hands; still clasped together, dried and warmer. <em>All these touches will have to end once I am betrothed to the prince, right?<br>_Petyr's body leaned into hers and her eyes closed when his lips claimed hers. The kiss wasn't as hungry and feverish as by the sea. It was slow and sensual and still, it took her breath away. Her body felt like a mass of embers, seared not by the fire but by him. Their lips massaged together at such a slow pace that it tormented her with impatience. She opened her mouth a little, granting his tongue access to taste hers. She couldn't hear the striking thunders or the heavy rain anymore; only their breathing, hitching and quickening. She lost track of time just as she lost herself in his tantalising kiss.  
>It was Petyr who pulled back, abruptly and hastily. He released her hands too and fixed his posture, as if he had been staring at the fire all this time. It took her a moment to realise why; Kella was back, serving the dining table with the plates.<br>"You look like you've seen a ghost, milady" the woman said and gifted Sansa with a toothy smile.  
>"No, I'm just…just hungry" she responded, unaware of how her voice managed to come out so steady.<br>"You still haven't changed. Neither of you" Kella commented with a puff of disappointment. "Better hurry and do so or else your dinner will get cold."  
>Sansa swallowed and looked at him, searching for an answer. He cast a side-glance towards her; she thought she saw a faint smile too.<p>

They both left to change into dry clothes and reunite at dinner, which they had with stolen glances and secret yearning, unspoken and undisclosed. The night separated them again with formal wishes of peaceful sleep. The wishes of closeness and ignition were left unuttered and unexpressed.

On the morrow, she didn't see him.


End file.
